The Silence Is Full of Him

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels like a verdict. You keep moving because you are terrified that if you stop, the noise will fade and you will find nothing real inside yourself.

Just hollow space. But the light does not need your motion to exist.

It was there before you started running. There was a woman who had bled for twelve years, spent everything on doctors, and only grew worse.

She did not fix herself first. She simply reached out from the crowd and touched the edge of a robe.

Immediately, power went out from him. He felt it.

The light did not wait for her to be whole. It responded to her touch.

You do not have to manufacture substance to be real. The light is already the substance.

Stop running. The silence is not empty.

It is full of the one who never left.